


it's such a shame for us to part

by mysterious_minds



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, M/M, Poetry, at least not for tamaki anyway, no happy endings at all, sad angsty poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterious_minds/pseuds/mysterious_minds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are surrounded by guests in the music room, and you are alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's such a shame for us to part

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a big fic for the 1D fandom, but my muse distracted me. Sorry. Title from "The Scientist" by Coldplay.

you are surrounded by guests in the music room

and you are alone.

 

he is across the room, smiling at someone.

the girl next to you speaks to you.

you cradle her face in your hands,

giving a sense of false romance

to put a smile on her pretty face for a while,

and you are alone.

 

he seems to have forgotten that he loved you once

and you loved him once.

(and you do still)

now he holds another’s heart in his hands.

and it is not who you want it to be

and you are alone.

 

his glasses and his smirk are still there

but your boisterous laugh is all but non-existent.

and it is not fair

how he has changed little, and you so much.

and that sits deep in your heart,

and you are alone.

 

and the piano is no home for you,

like it was before.

it’s ivory keys do not match his ivory skin

that you once wrote beautiful melodies about.

the piano sits, dusty and unused

and you are alone.

 

the other hosts are not aware of these feelings of yours,

they believe the smile you put on everyday.

and you are happy they do, but sometimes

you wish they’d see through it.

because this façade is tiring,

and you are alone.

 

your heart is cracking in two, it seems,

and so is your smile, your voice.

you are requested less and less,

the others, more and more,

and you are alone.

 

he apologizes to you one day,

and he hugs you, and promises you

that he loves you.

but you aren’t deluding yourself, you know what kind

of love he means

and you are alone.

 

the façade does fade,

and so does the remaining gleam in your violet eyes

when he gets married to the girl.

you refuse to go, at first, but you relent

because everyone else is going, and _he’s your best friend_

and you are alone.

 

he says his vows with her and slides the ring on,

and you wonder when he grew up, when they all grew up

because you sure don’t remember.

you especially don’t remember when he stopped being Kyouya,

and started being a stranger behind a familiar face,

and you are alone.

 

their baby announcement goes out a year later.

a year which you spent playing the piano in bars

because you did not want to take a company

that was too closely connected to him.

the baby looks like him, and like her,

and you are alone.

 

the whole old gang settles down,

with each other, with new people, with old friends.

and yet you remain companionless,

because there is only one person you want to be with

and he is married with a baby,

and you are alone.

 

the day he dies is perhaps the day you do as well,

and maybe it’ll be okay, but it probably won’t be.

you scream and you cry and you shout and you—

you shouldn’t be acting like this, you weren’t married to him.

 _but I should’ve been_ , you think,

and you are alone.

 

his funeral day. It is raining, and your eyes are raining

and your face seems permanently crumpled.

and his wife is glaring at you, but why?

is she not as horribly broken as you are?

she is not,

and you are alone.

 

everyone surrounds you afterwards, trying to comfort you.

they do not realize you cannot be comforted, cannot be calmed,

your grief knows no boundaries, no end, no way out,

and you are alone.

 

days turn to weeks and weeks to months and months to years

and you are finally visiting his black marble headstone.

you bring a bouquet of orange poppies— _remember? Your favorite?_

and you set them down gently, and begin to talk about anything, everything

and you are alone.

 

 

you are still alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at grizzlybairparty:)


End file.
